


To Follow The Wolf

by CaseyKat09



Series: Wolf's Long Journey. [1]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, Huge Plot spoilers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-11-26
Updated: 2017-05-18
Packaged: 2018-05-03 10:42:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 10
Words: 16,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5287595
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaseyKat09/pseuds/CaseyKat09
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mya'fen Levellan's story did not start at the conclave. When Mya tells Solas the horrible secret of her past, he realizes that the Inquisitor is not all she appears to be. But will that be enough to influence his plan? Will he decide to include another who has been wronged by the Dalish in his plans to restore what was lost?<br/></p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Beginning

**Author's Note:**

> HUGE thank you to FenxShiral for all the work he or she must have put into filling in the gaps to this beautiful language. Most of the language I used is from their lexicon, if you haven't checked it out, you really should. But thank you, reader, for your time and I would really be interested in what you think of my story! Seriously. Any comment helps :)

The day she was born was full of omens whether good or bad, it depended on who was asked. From her parents' perspective, the brightness of the rising sun was a sign of hope. For the Keeper, the blood-red tinge of the same sun told her that the child was going to be battle-tested. For the rest of the clan, the child's high pitched wailing coupled with the wolves' singing in the forest was a sign that she would be strong and a force to be feared. Thus, her name was to be Mya’fen. To follow the wolf. All those she encountered would know the path her feet had been placed upon. 

Ten years pass and the infant has grown into quite the child. She was quite the handful. Often her parents would have two or three clan members keep an eye on her. Her bright violet eyes, ringed with silver flashed with wonder.

"Mya, no. You mustn't eat that!!" Her mother scolds catching sight of the heart shaped leaves grasped in her daughter's tiny fist raised towards her mouth. 

"Why not?" Mya asks not lowering the plant an inch from where she had frozen. 

"Because it'll make you terribly ill, child." Miasha explains patiently. She takes the plant from the tiny hands of her child.

"You don't want to meet Falon'Din early, do you?" the child shakes her head blonde hair swishing about her face.

"No, Mamae, I want to live until I'm as old as the sky!" Her mother chuckles and runs her hand through Mya’fen's hair.

"Then you must be careful, and think before you act." Miasha warns. "Let's see if your father is done making dinner." 

They take the long way back to their aravel, Miasha pointing out the various plant life along the road. They finally arrive where their clan was camped but what they come home to is absolutely terrifying. Humans were attacking the aravels and the elves both. 

"Knife-eared, heathen, bastards!" someone snarls. 

"Shemlen scum!" an elf hollers.

"Quickly, we must get the aravel up and moving!" Mya clutched her mother's hand as they ran past the violence. "Hurry!" her mother cries. Mya’s heart was pounding in her chest and in her ears as she struggled to keep up with her mother’s frantic pace. Would they reach the others in time? 

When they finally reach the aravel that is theirs, it is quiet. 

"Vhenan!" Miasha cried out. "Where are you?" No response. She turned to her daughter. "Run. As far and as quickly as you can. Find another clan. Tell them was has transpired here." Mya refused to move, tears flowing down her tiny cheeks. 

"No, I want to stay with you! Where is Papae?" Miasha growled. 

"Go! Now! Do as I tell you and run!" She noticed the slim, white, deer-like creature struggling to break the cord that attached it to the aravel. Miasha picked up her daughter, and ran to the halla, the deer-like creature startling, setting her daughter down on it. She pulled the knife strapped to her thigh out of its leather sheath cutting the bindings of the halla. 

"There's some knife-ears over here!" a man called out. Mya’s eyes widened in fear as a group of rouge men headed their way. 

"Never forget this, Mya’fen: No matter how lonely or sad you are, no matter what happens, your father and I will always watch over you and we will always love you." Miasha whispered in her ear. She smacked the halla's flank. "May the Dread Wolf follow and protect you!" She cried as the halla galloped away. 

Miasha turned around to face her enemies. She clenched the dagger in her hands. The Dalish woman knew that her husband and most of her clan were dead, and that soon she too would perish. 

"She ain't half bad lookin', boss. Now that she ain't got her little brat with her." One of the men taunted, leering. 

"Someone go get the brat and the stupid antelope thing she's riding." The man that seemed to be in charge commanded. 

"You think you're justified in this?" Miasha demanded. "We have done nothing to you." A man with black leather armor approached her.

"You and your clan are demons and must be purged. The magic you knife-eared heretics practice must be destroyed." 

She points her dagger at a man in black leather amour. "You're first." She lunges and cuts the throat of the man.. "Who's next?" 

 

\---

 

Mya’fen didn't know how long the halla ran. She sobbed and clung to the beast’s fur unable to focus on anything else. Eventually the halla did slow down giving Mya the chance to gather her bearings. On the left of the trees, a river that ran past a small clearing where Mya and her clan had once camped. Not far from her current location, there was a cave where the clan used to go to gather certain herbs. The halla without waiting for directions walked to the river for its much needed drink. 

It wasn't until she had slipped her way off the halla to quench her own thirst did she see the water tinged red. The ground beneath her feet made a sickening tilt when her gaze found the mangled bodies of the clan's healers drifting towards her. Their beautiful ears shredded, some with no faces at all - her mind sputtering and spinning at the sight. Without a thought, her tiny feet turned and she fled the scene, her thoughts coming up blank as to why she should ever stop running.

Mya did not stop running until she discovered a path to one of her clan's abandoned caves. Except that it wasn't entirely abandoned. Wolves had taken it as their own and it was not until the wolves ran out, snarling ready to defend what was theirs, did Mya's mind reconnect with her feet. One never ran from a wolf – this had been ingrained in her memory as far back as she could remember. 

Warily, one wolf crept towards her fangs bared at her intrusion on their territory. The wolf sniffed her hand and if not for the terrifying gore she had just witnessed Mya would not have dared to reach out and scratch the creature's ear. Instead of the sensation of sharp teeth in her skin she expected the wolf relaxed with each scratch of its ear tongue lolling out of its mouth in a silly display of approval. Mya tenderly smiled. 

The wolf could smell the scent of sweat and fear in her hands. For some reason, the wolf felt some kind of strange kinship with the girl. Did she come from the other pack of strange elves that lived near here? She carried a similar scent of the wolves that sometimes hunted with them. 

"My family is dead. Can I come live with you?" The wolf nuzzled his head against her palm. The other wolves, which were chasing the halla, gave up and cautiously approached the girl. They each took turns smelling the girl and finding her anything but threatening accepted her as one of their own. 

The night was the first of many to come filled with terrors. She saw her clan mates being torn apart by large, human hands. She saw her mother and father beheaded, their corpses burned by the hunters. Mya awoke, surrounded by her new pack, gasping for air. 

"You need to think before you act, da'len." Her mother had said to her. It was time she start to ponder what she was to do rather than running blindly and pitching herself into another wolf den. The next arlathvhen wasn’t for another two years, and she needed to warn the other clans of the violent humans who seemed to be on the war path, as difficult as this will be. The Free Marches was a big place. To get to the next clan, she was going to have to learn how to track. "You think you guys can teach me some tricks?" She asked her new friends.


	2. A New Family and Bad Omems

A huge white wolf with striking violet-silver eyes stalked through the forests, her steps quiet. The only sounds she could hear were the birds and her own breathing. She pounced suddenly, chasing a halla as it sprinted for its life. Eventually, she had it exactly where she wanted it. Her pack charging in, and finishing it off. She let the wolves take what they wanted first, as they did most of the work. 

When they were done, Revas, the silver-furred she-wolf who had been the first of the four wolves to accept her, nudged the best part of the halla her way. Hanin, who’s own fur was as black as night, whined that he wanted that part for himself. Atisha, the fiercest hunter amongst them, growled in annoyance at his brother’s selfishness. Enalsalin’s body language seemed to suggest exasperation at her sibling’s behavior, as she had plopped her grey furred body down in the corner of the cave, over-dramatically. 

"Thank you, my friends.", Mya’fen said gratefully. She started shifting back to her elvhen form, fur receding from her skin, ears elongating back to points, fangs slowly shrinking. She shuddered after the process, more from the chilly weather than any pain. She decided to roast her portion of the meal, and concentrated on producing a flame by gathering her mana and focused on the kindling she had gathered. Mya grabbed the nearest stick, and proceeded to heat her portion of the catch.

"I can't believe it’s been a year." she sighed. One year since her whole world was turned upside down. Since she lost her clan and her parents. Suddenly Without warning the temperature dropped drastically and little snowflakes started falling from the sky. The group of wolves whined at the sudden change in weather. 

"Ir ableas." Mya whispered. In the time she'd been with her pack, she discovered her gift of magic. 

Mya had discovered her magic a few days after she had been accepted into the pack. 

She had decided to wait for the humans to leave before she dared to trace her way back to the camp she had once called home. When she arrived, she almost passed out from the sickly sweet smell of the rotting corpses. Mya couldn't hold back the tears of grief for the child she had been, and the lives that were lost. 

She steeled herself for the next task of gathering the necessary supplies for a proper Dalish funeral and set to work burying her dead clan. Mya’fen avoided her own aravel until she felt herself ready. The people that once comforted her when she was sick, punished her when she was out of line, and held her when she needed to be held, were in horrible condition. Her mother's once shining red hair was missing from what Mya assumed to be scalp, and her father's face was barely recognizable. She ran outside the aravel and vomited until she had nothing left in her stomach. 

The wolves who had so graciously taken her in, whined and nuzzled her until the sobs stopped coming. "They need a proper funeral. They deserve that much." She told them.

It took her most of the day to dig the necessary number of graves before Mya performed the Dalish ceremony that she knew. As she recalled most of the words that would help her kin to find peace in the beyond, it started raining.   
Rain used to bring pleasant memories of huddling in the aravel with her mother and father. Memories of telling such funny stories, that Mya could hardly breathe. But now all she could think about is what she lost. A sudden bout of fury and aggression burst in her chest, flowed through her arms and gathered in her tiny fists. She slammed them on the ground, hoping for even the smallest amount of relief. 

A crack of lightning hit the spot her palms met, startling little Mya. She looked at her hands in wonder and anger. Why couldn't she have had this power weeks ago when she needed it?! She screamed in anguish and grief before slamming her hands on the ground again. The same result.

Revas nuzzled her white muzzle across Mya’s hands in an attempt to comfort her. Hanin whined and growled softly, sensing her discomfort. Enalsalin and Atisha barked in protest of her sadness. "Sometimes, I wish I could be like you, so I wouldn't have to be me." She had said. Looking back on it, years later, she laughed at the irony of what happened after that. Mya’s eyes constantly misted as she passed the familiar surroundings of her former home, pausing every now and again to clutch the nearest wolf for support as she mourned her family. She grabbed whatever supplies that were salvageable from the aravels that were mostly intact. Searching for some way to hold the food, the tools, and the little elvhen toys she couldn’t let go of, the pack came across a decent sized backpack, a bit big for little Mya. She took some of the miraculously unburnt rope and strapped the bag to Revas’s grumpy back. After one more longing look, Mya and her friends headed out on their journey to find clan Levellan.

After the funeral, the pack moved from their previous cave to a different cave that featured a unpolluted river, a forest filled with wildlife, and was human-free. This was where they had made their new temporary home.

The first time Mya laid eyes on the cave filled with sparkling dawn stone, her reflection was bouncing around the cave, causing her to giggle at her pink-tinted self. Growing alongside the pink stone were the glowing mushrooms that were heavily featured in this area, giving her multiple reflections a blueish tint. she was amazed at the beauty of the stones and the fungus. She took a couple of minutes to dance through the cave, giggling at the glimpses she caught of her own flailing limbs. 

This was the cave where Mya found out she could change her shape. Mya’Fen watched one day, as a bird flitted from branch to branch and found a sudden desire to do the same. Mya concentrated on the bird's shape and how she, herself would appear, along with her strong desire to just let everything go and just be something else. She felt her skin ripple and tingle with what she would later find out as the magical energy all mages possessed. She felt her limbs and torso shrink, as her arms became more feathered. She screamed as her fingers elongated into the fragile bones of a birds wing, unknowing of the process her body was going through. 

Once the borderline horrifying process was over, Mya felt the strength of the bird's wings (her wings) and flapped once, evaluating her new limbs. I wonder if I could change into a wolf? She wondered. Mya pictured a white wolf in her head as she shifted once more. Her size, however, was more that of a hart than a wolf. She lifted a paw, testing out the difference in sensation from her elvhen hands the birds’ wing. In the distance, she heard a familiar joyful howl. She lifted her head and howled in return. 

Soon, Revas, Hanin, Enalsalin, and Atisha came home with the spoils of the hunt. They were not expecting their wayward elf to be replaced by the oversized white wolf that stood in her place. Revas was the first to approach her, having been the first one before, and sniffed. It was that same scent of elfroot and berries that had clung to their ward when they first met. It's her. Revas communicated to the others. Mya was surprised that she could understand the wolf. Are you sure? How is that possible? Atisha demanded; he was the most cautious of the group. It is me! I'm so happy I can finally understand what you’re saying! Mya yipped in joy. Enalsalin sniffed her for confirmation. She barked back an affirmative to her younger brother, Hanin, who joined the group. 

I have had experiences with creatures, like you, who could change their shape. Atisha said, tongue lolling out of his mouth. Revas’ eyes shifted to her brother. They were probably the best hunters I have ever seen. I watched a group of three take down a Great Bear without even a single injury and somehow change into elves. But I haven’t seen them since the day you came to us. Mya’s eyes widened. Was her ability hereditary? If so, why had she never seen anything of the sort in her clan? Why had her parents never told her? A flood of questions bombarded her poor mind. She decided the best thing to do was ignore them for the moment, maybe the other adults in the other clans would know the answers. 

I'm pretty certain that I have the trick to this memorized. However, I am no fool and will only take the form of the wolf or others like it to prevent myself from being possessed, as untrained mages often are. Mya decided. They tilted their heads at that, wondering how a child could know about possession, but not her own family’s abilities. 

We need to find this clan Levellan soon, Revas said. 

\-- 

It had been two months since Myafen had discovered that her shape-shifting abilities. Since then, she has used the time to acclimate to the life of a wolf. In between the lessons that her wolf family gave her, they discovered a human town with enough distance between the shem and the wolves that Mya’fen was no longer uneasy. 

Because of what the human hunters had done to her clan and her family, she had difficulties trusting them or being around them. But she had seen some kindness from other humans passing through a city one day after making sure her wolves were a sufficient distance away from the humans, when a lonely woman offered her the only piece of bread that she had. And again when an old man knelt down to pet her ears when she was transformed as a mabari. She kept her ears covered, however, when she went to the markets in her elf form.

"I hear there's a clan of elves not far from here," One man muttered to another. 

"Clan Lavellan!" she exhaled excitedly. 

Mya quickly rushed out of the town to find her wolf family. "I found them!" she shouted. They wolves barked happily, glad she had found her clan. "There were some shemlen that were talking about a clan outside of town, I'm sure all we have to do is find some hint of their presence." That was going to be difficult. Dalish elves tried not to leave any evidence of their homes, lest the fate clan Fenora befall them. 

The next day, after hours of tracking, Myafen found the clan her mother pointed her to only to find the clan was not at all what she expected.


	3. Wolf Rugs and Conversations

It had been sixteen years since her world fell apart. Fifteen since clan Levellan generously took her in. Two years since the Conclave. Today, she was arguing with Inquisition servants over the carpeting in her quarters. 

"No, I do not want any wolf pelts in my quarters." Mya said to the woman dressed in expensive gold clothes who brought up the offensive objects. "Just because I am an elf does not mean that I want dead animals on my floor." In truth, it was because the pelts reminded her of her long dead foster family. The grief that she had been too young and too unpracticed with her skills to help had lessoned over the years, but still stung. 

"Alright, Your Worship, I understand." Josephine replied."Would you like some woolen carpets instead? I suppose it wouldn’t be too much of a hassle for the servants.” Josephine contemplated.

“Okay, that I can do. I didn’t intend to be so harsh, ambassador. Wolves… have always been special to me. I refuse to contribute to the disrespect my fellow Dalish commit to them.." Mya admitted. 

Josephine put her hand on Mya's shoulder.

"From what you've told me of your childhood, My Lady, I completely understand why walking on wolf fur would be traumatizing, and I apologize for my insensitivity and poor memory." Josephine replied sincerely. 

Mya blinked. "It's not your fault, Josie. No need to apologize." Josie bowed her head in gratitude.

"You're too kind, Inquisitor." Mya smirked. 

"It's just like shemlen nobles to ignore the traditions of my people. Do the nobles who send me these think I would be scared? Do they think I follow the ignorant traditions of my fellow Dalish? In my childhood, I never feared Fen'Harel. The clan I was born in worshipped him instead of the other gods in the elvhen pantheon. It made me somewhat of a pariah, to my adapotive clan." Mya explained. The look on Josephine's face expressed displeasure at the Inquisitor's slur, but the Antivan ambassador allowed it to pass. 

In her time with clan Levellan, Mya discovered many differences between the clan she was born into, and the clan who she was raised with. First and foremost, the fear of the Dread Wolf was not present in her birth-clan. In fact, the clan's name paid homage to the wolf. When Keeper Deshanna asked the origins of her name, Fenel found it easier to say it was to keep the Dread Wolf off her scent than to say it was to honor him. Once she discovered the other clans' hatred of the Dread Wolf, she decided she wouldn't tell Dashanna of the wolves who she called family. Her decision ended up costing her the ones who saved her life, in the end. 

"Inquisitor?" a familiar elf called out from down the stairs. "I apologize for disturbing such an important meeting, but I was wondering if I could have a moment of your time." he asked. 

"Looks like the rug issue must be put on a hold." She acknowledged. Josephine tilted her head in a affirmation. 

"On my way, Solas." Mya called out. She took one last look at the workers who brought up the wolf pelts. "I hope I never see wolf pelts in my quarters again.” She muttered on her way down the stairs. 

"What did you want to talk to me about?" Mya asked Solas on their way to his rotunda. 

"Something you said about your clan to the ambassador is… intriguing." He admitted. 

"You spied on the Conclave for clan Lavellan, yet you were not born as such?" he inquired. She shook her head. They walked past Varric, who winked at the Inquisitor. Mya blushed and stuck her tongue out at the dwarf. 

"No, I was in a Dalish clan who did not share the same beliefs about Fen'Harel as the Dalish here seem to." She spoke. Solas' eyes widened.

"Why? Don't the Dalish clans meet at the Arlathvhen to share their stories?" She nodded.

"Yes. My birth clan, from what I remember, was always treated with a certain… distance." she explained. "All the other clans knew what we thought of the Dread Wolf, but the elders seemed more concerned with keeping all the Dalish somewhat united, than whether or not we believed the Trickster Wolf was the reason for our fall." Solas nodded his understanding.

"I see. How did you come to go to Lavellan?" he asked. 

"I… don't usually like talking about it." She began. 

"You do not have to share your origins if you do not wish to." Solas offered. 

"No, I've talked about it a little with my advisors, but I need to get it all out to move on. At least to someone I trust." She muttered, suddenly feeling self-conscious. "When I was a girl, a group of human rouges attacked Clan Fenora." Solas' face twisted into shock. 

"Nation of the wolf? Why would the Dalish name themselves after a being long thought to be the reason for Arlathan's destruction?" he asked.

"I told you our clan had heretical thoughts about the Dread Wolf, did I not?" Mya answered patiently. 

"We wandered along the edges of Antiva mostly, we visited the ruins of Arlathan, digging up whatever artifacts we could find. I don't really recall much of what we found. Only that it depicted Fen'Harel in a completely different light than what the Dalish understand." Her voice trembled with disappointment that the other clans could not overcome their prejudice. 

"That’s…" Solas was speechless. He could not understand how anyone could uncover any of the secrets of Arlathan, much less any of the Dalish.

"Your birth clan sounds much less… superstitious than any of the other clans I met. I can't imagine the amount of acclimating it must have taken." He whispered in awe. She gave a rueful smile. 

"We seem to have a shared experience with the Dalish not believing what we have to say. However, you being well versed in the Fade and its mysteries, I find their lack of faith in you more disturbing than their lack of faith in me." Solas returned her smile. 

"Had your clan lived, I believe they would have made a bigger difference in Dalish views. Although I have no evidence of this." He added. Mya blushed and muttered a quick ma serannas. 

"Anyway, we were traveling and one day a group of human rogues came upon the location of our aravels. Naturally they didn't want any knife-ears traveling on what they viewed as 'their' land, much less a group of 'demon-worshiping knife-ears'. So they attacked, and slaughtered us. My mother tried to get to my father in time, but…" She trailed off. 

"Da'len, you don't have to continue." Solas said gently. 

"No, I haven't talked about this in a while. I need to." Mya firmly replied. "So my mother picked me up, put me on the nearest halla, and I never saw her alive again." Solas stared at her. 

"How did you survive?" Mya hesitated and considered lying to him. What if he thought she was crazy, as others did? 

"You're not going to believe me." She warned. 

"I believe I have seen my fair share of 'crazy shit' as Varric likes to put it." Solas reassured. The corners of Mya's mouth started twitching. 

"I found a cave with a pack of feral wolves inside who took me in and helped me." She confessed. Solas raised an eyebrow. 

"Is that it?" He asked. She shook her head, relived that he was taking it well so far. Although, Solas wasn’t one to judge another’s life based on a silly myth, so she really shouldn’t have been surprised by his acceptance. She decided he was worthy to hear the rest. 

"Not even remotely. The crazy part came later, and was as much a surprise to me, as it's about to be to you." Mya'fen took a step back from the apostate, and took a deep breath. There was a flash of sky blue light and a wolf as white as the snow on the surrounding peaks of Skyhold, and as big as a hart replaced the Inquisitor.

To say that Solas was shocked was the understatement of the millennia. Since his awakening, he had not come across any that retained the ability to change their form at will. Another flash of blue light and Mya was back in her elven form. 

"You know Solas, I’ve heard that if you keep your jaw wide open like that, it invites demons." She teased nervously. 

"Have you always had this ability?" he asked after a few moments of silent contemplation. She nodded, eyes shifting downward, as she moved her weight back and forth from her left to right foot nervously while fiddling with her fingers. 

"It didn’t manifest until….after - along with my magic." she stated. "I found out later that my entire clan had possessed this ability." Solas was thoughtful. 

"The ancient elves called those with the ability to change their shape, dun'himelan. I have encountered few memories of those with the ability in the Fade, and thus I find this… fascinating." He admitted. "However, I was under the impression that the Dalish only kept one or two mages so they would not draw the attention of Templars." Mya bit her lip. 

"Once again, this proves another area in which my clan was different. I suppose the adults thought that we could protect ourselves from the Chantry." she said ruefully. 

"The fact that we did not fear Fen'Harel combined with the amount of mages in our clan did not make us popular among our people, but the elders could not ignore the fact that so few of us remember the old ways. Or what the Dalish could comprehend of the old ways." she amended at the look of contempt on Solas' face.

"Ir abelas, lethallan." Solas whispered, sorrow and regret straining his voice. 

"Why are you sorry? You do realize that not every horrific event that happens in Thedas is your fault, right?" She jested. Solas' mouth twitched. 

"You're very name is blasphemous. 'To follow the wolf'. How did you explain that to Lavellan?" He asked, avoiding answering her question. Mya grimaced, his dodging did not go unnoticed.

"My life after I was found was not… simple." She mumbled. 

"We can continue that particular conversation later, if you wish." Solas offered, sensing her discomfort. Mya was grateful. She could talk about the tragedy that took place in her childhood, but her time spent as First to Clan Levellan was still somewhat fresh in her mind. 

"Ma serannas, harhen." She said. Solas' eyes glanced behind her and he smiled.

"Looks like we had an audience." Mya whipped around to see Varric Tethras with his mouth hanging open.

"Wow." He said in awe. "You really can't write this shit." Mya gave a small, rueful smile. 

"My life has been one big pile of crazy shit." She admitted. 

"Indeed," the resident Tevinter mage nodded from his perch above them. 

"So do we need to check and see if she has any diseases? Y’know because of the whole ‘feral animal’ thing?" Dorian quipped. Mya glared at the flashy mage. 

“I'll have you know that I've never had so much as a flea!" Mya shouted indignantly. All three of the men chuckled. 

"I'll let you get back to your rugs." Solas said with an amused smile and turned to study the shard on his table. Mya smiled, nodded and moved to walk past Varric and back to her quarters


	4. Healing Hands and Hurting Hearts

Mya woke two days later to a familiar, unbearable aching in her left hand. 

"Damn it! Not again" she swore. She swung her legs to the side of her bed. She took a deep breath and tried to gain control of herself. Another breath in, and back out. She clutched her unsteady left hand which contained the Anchor with her right. Maybe this time, she should get some help. Her hand had never shaken like this before.

Deciding to forgo the complicated shem clothing in favor of a light blue negligee, she headed to the rotunda, where the resident Fade expert lay. 

"Solas. Are you awake?" she whispered from behind the door. She knocked lightly. She hissed as another wave of pain came from the anchor. 

"I need your help." She knocked again, a little more urgently. She could hear someone on the other side of the door getting up and shuffling towards her. As the door opened, Solas glared at the intruder before realizing it was the Inquisitor. He was about to ask her what was going on, when he noticed how hard she was clutching the Anchor.

"Come in, and I'll see what I can do." he moved aside for Mya to join him. 

As she walked by him, he noticed what she was wearing, or rather, what she wasn't wearing. He observed, his mouth dry, the milky paleness of her skin, the scars and burns that went up and down her entire body from the vicious cruelty of both current and old enemies, the soft curves of her hips, the taut muscles on her stomach. He observes her posture, trying to gauge how much pain she’s in and gestures for her to sit on the couch. 

"Has it been hurting this whole time?" he demanded. She at the very least, had the grace to look sheepish, confirming his thoughts. 

"Fenedhis! Why is this the first time you've said anything?" Mya distracted herself from his irritation (and the feel of his calloused hands on hers, not that Mya would ever admit) by staring at the murals that decorated the walls of the apostate's room.

"I didn’t want to bother you so early in the morning. I figured I could handle the pain until it was a semi-decent time the day… That is, until my hand started shaking" She mumbled sleepily. Solas’ eyes softened. 

"It would be my pleasure to help you with this, Inquisitor. If you had come to me sooner, we could have resolved the problem at a less inconvenient time." He said in a voice that Mya, if she did not know better, was teasing. She tilted her chin in a sleepy acknowledgement. Solas' hand lit up with his mana. 

"I'm going to try to take as much fade energy from the anchor as I can. The energy from the anchor is clashing with your mana. I’m sure that’s what's causing you pain." He stated. Mya's eyes widened. 

"Wouldn't you also suffer?" She asked worriedly. Solas shook his head. 

"I'm not going to take it into myself, I'm simply going to pull it from your hand, store the energy in a container of a sort."

He walked over to his desk opening the drawers until he found a blue glass jar. 

“For now, it will be contained in here.” Solas gently touched her hand. Mya gasped as Solas’ mana mixed with hers. Solas’ faced shifted into one of concentration. His forearm gently caressed the Inquisitor’s in an almost intimate way. Their mana aggressively brushed against each other, Solas’ drawing hers from her body. He grunted and released her. In one smooth motion, he shoved his fist into the jar, and poured the green energy into the container, closing the lid quickly. 

He smiled tiredly at her. 

“Is that better?”he asked. She nodded, a little dizzy and unstable from the withdrawal. 

“Ugh, I just want to sleep here. Getting down all those stairs was painful.” She complained. Solas just rolled his eyes. 

“You are more than welcome to the couch, if you’d like.” He offered. She nodded her acceptance. She swayed, mana depleted, but she figured she had a shot of making it to the couch before her legs gave out on her. She was almost there before she stumbled on a crack in the flooring, tripped, and landed in the arms of the elvhen apostate. 

“S’not funny.” She mumbled.

“No it isn’t,” Solas agreed, “having your mana depleted from you is a tiring process that normally would have devastating effects on your body. But since you had your own mana and the energy from the mark, clashing, hopefully it will be a process that will allow the two energies to come to a balance inside you. I’m fairly certain your problem has been solved.” 

She yawned and reluctantly pulled away from Solas. She gathered herself and sat upon the offered couch in the rotunda. “I’ve got so much stuff to do in the morning.” She groaned to herself. “Apparently, my schedule has been commandeered by nobles who feel the need to educate me in the subtleties of modern politics.” She said to Solas sardonically. 

“Sounds like you have an early morning ahead of you. I’ll let you rest.” Before she could even respond, he quickly turned out of the room. 

Solas stared at the door that he just walked out of. He took a deep breath and released it. He pulled out the nearest chair and sat down. Groaning in frustration, he held his head in between his knees. “You planned this didn’t you, Mythal? Somehow you knew this would happen. What am I supposed to do now?” He murmured to himself. Mya was quickly becoming a distraction he didn’t need. But how could he not admire the beautiful spirit she had? Mya had come from humble, tragic beginnings, just as he had. How could he not somewhat relate to the girl?


	5. Look into The Past

_Mya was ecstatically jumping around the campfire._ _After months of searching, she finally found a clan, as her mother had wanted. However, they weren’t like her previous clan. They were much more paranoid about contact with the humans, which, given her experience with the shemlen, didn’t seem to be a bad thing. They treated her shape-changing magic as something that was forbidden._

_“Da'len, why would you not be satisfied with the shape that the Creators gave you?” Keeper Deshanna asked, in a mother-like patient tone. Mya shrugged her shoulders._

_“I did what I had to do to survive, Keeper.” Deshanna seemed pleased at this answer._

_“You have to do more than survive, Da’len. You have to live and leave the past where it belongs.” Mya didn’t know this now, but later she would come to see this as the only good piece of advice that Keeper Levellan would ever give her._

_That night after the celebrations for finding Mya had ended, she snuck out of the aravel she had been invited to sleep in. She shifted into her wolf form and padded away._

_“Brothers and Sisters!" she called out, tongue lolling out of her mouth._

_“Sister!” Revas answered as her wolves trotted towards her. “How did it go? Did they accept you? I still don’t understand why you couldn’t just stay with us. We would have a lot more fun than some silly Dalish.” Mya yipped indignantly._

_“I know. But maybe if they just meet you, they’ll understand that wolves aren’t like the stories.  Fen’Harel was once part of the pantheon, maybe he can be again.” Mya proposed excitedly. The wolves looked doubtful. But, as they loved this young elf mage as a sibling, they agreed to help despite knowing the likely outcome of their folly._


	6. Encounters

“The Duke did what?” Mya guffawed. Josephine nodded through her uncontrollable giggles. 

“H-he leapt off the balcony, and into the lake to put out the fire! The poor mage looked like he was going to faint!” Mya snorted. 

“Well, I would too if I accidentally set fire to the pants of nobility.” Mya’s response prompted more of Josie’s hysteric giggles. 

“M-my Lady!” Josephine attempted to admonish through the gasping laughter, Mya shrugged and smiled. 

“I do enjoy our ‘girl-talks’, though I wish Lelina, Cassandra, Vivienne, and Lace would join us.” Mya admitted. Josie quirked an eyebrow. 

“Not Sera?” She asked. Mya shook her head vehemently. 

“I would be too preoccupied with our gossip to keep an eye on that little prankster. For all we know, she would figure out a way to drug us, and take our breeches for sport.” Josephine laughed.

“I do not think even Sera would stoop that low, Vivienne, on the other hand, is quite the devious one.” Mya snorted. 

“That’s putting it lightly, though I do enjoy our gossiping. She has…interesting opinions on our friends as well as on politics.” Josephine raised an eyebrow and Mya shrugged. 

“Frankly, I don’t quite understand some of the thoughts she has about mages, but I come from a place where magic wasn’t as…repressed…as some of the Circles were. Honestly though, I think she’s right about the Circles. Mages need a place of learning and acceptance. Especially after the last few years. Sometimes I wish that I had at least seen one.” Mya admitted. 

“You never talk about that. Your childhood. The last time we spoke on it, you told me that your clan wasn’t very warm towards you.” Josephine prodded gently. Mya’s eyes hardened. 

“The clan that took me in and raised me…they weren’t very fond of how I did things. I didn’t even realize until much later that trying to get them to accept me was a pointless endeavor.” Mya murmured. She sighed, a bitter smile twisting her mouth. “That mistake cost me much.” Josephine wrapped her arm around Mya’s shoulders in a comforting embrace. Mya let her head lean on Josie’s shoulder.

“It’s never a mistake to want to have family. The only mistake, is trying to change yourself to fit other people’s ridiculous standards.” Josie stated. Mya gave a tiny smile. 

“Thanks, Josie. You’re a great ambassador, and an even better friend.” Josie blushed. 

“Now, we’ve been gossiping entirely too long. We’ve got work to do.” Josie looked pointedly at the Inquisitor. Mya laughed. 

“Okay, okay, you’ve seen through my charade.” Mya put her hands up in mock surrender. 

They stood, smoothing their clothes, before going down the stairs of Mya’s quarters that lead into the main room. The visiting nobles nodded their heads. Solas, who was conversing with Varric on the topic of his novels, smiled and waved at the Inquisitor, who smiled and gave a small wave in return. 

“If this is you trying to be subtle, Your Worship, I’d hate to see you in being ostentacious.” Josephine jested. Mya’fen flushed and turned her head. 

“It's not like you're any better around a certain Grey Warden.” Mya whispered, slyly. Josie gasped and glared at Mya. 

“Who told you this?” The Antivan demanded, embarrassed she was caught. Mya’s bright blue eyes grew shifty. 

“Who knows? I hear a lot of things from a lot of people.”

"It was Leliana wasn't it?” 

“Yep!” Mya chirped, before she left her irate ambassador going past the throne room into the rotunda where her favorite bald elven apostate resided. She ran up the stairs to the top level, to avoid said apostate, bumping into the other Mage that occupied this part of Skyhold. 

“As much as I adore the feel of your body on mine, I must inquire to the conditions of our joining.” Dorian winked. 

“Josie found out who's been spreading the gossip about her and Blackwall, and she is not what you would call ‘happy.’” Mya explained. Dorian laughed. 

“Well, since the sexual tension between those two is as thick as the hide of a dragon, who cares about the methods so long as we get those two repressed love birds together?!” He exclaimed.

Mya nodded. “Life is too short.” 

The happy-go-lucky mood slowly vanished between the two mages as both of them thought how true the saying actually is. They both thought about the ones they lost too soon. For Mya, it was her parents, her clan and the ones she couldn’t save from Corypheus’s attack on Haven. While for Dorian, he mourned the recent loss of his friend, Felix, who lost the battle with his illness. 

"Is something the matter, Dorian?” She asked. Dorian swallowed hard. 

“I went to visit Felix’s father.” Mya noticed Dorian refused to say Felix’s father’s name, as if it were some taboo thing to acknowledge him. 

“What did you talk about, if I may ask?” 

“Just about Felix, and some of… Alexius’s regrets.” He spat out the name of his friend’s father like it was poison. 

“Are you okay?” Mya asked, her voice soft with compassion. Dorian looked at her, his grey eyes shone with sadness, regrets, but a little bit of hope for his old mentor. 

“Thank you. For sparing him.” She noticed he dodged her question and still couldn’t quite say Alexius’ name with the ease he used to. Though, at the time, they were in the middle of a serious conflict.

“I wanted to find a peaceful solution. There was enough bloodshed on both sides.” She had an idea where the conversation was going, and she really did not want to go there.

“… So…” Dorian started, his eyes shifting about the room to look anywhere but at Mya, trying to find a subject change. “You didn’t tell the others what really happened at Redcliff.” Mya sighed. 

“I didn’t feel like it was necessary to tell them about their horrific deaths. They’ve all got their own stuff to worry about.” Mya evaded.

“You didn’t feel like informing the others that if we fuck up, we’re all dead?” Dorian exclaimed, his voice incredulous. 

“First of all, we all know that if we don’t defeat Corypheus, AKA: the wannabe god of everything, the whole world is basically fucked. I just didn’t feel the need to… confirm… what everyone already knew.” She replied. The entire experience felt like a repeat of what had happened to her clan, watching as the people she had come to love like a family died. Watching as Leliana sacrificed herself, as Solas and the others sacrificed themselves to get her back to her own time. 

“Maybe… you should tell them, if not for their sakes, then for your own. Everyone notices how exhausted you look.” Mya opened her mouth to rebuke that statement, but Dorian shot her a look that said, ‘be quiet, you know it’s true’. She sighed. 

“You know, since you've listened to the tragic story that is my life, it would only be fair to return the favor. And if you don't want to tell me, I'm sure that everyone else feels the same.” Mya offered. 

“Okay, but my tragic story requires booze” Doria declared. 

“I could go get the others.” She offered. Dorian grimaced, but nodded.

“In exchange, I demand to hear about your childhood.” 

“Are you sure? It’s not exactly a happy story.” Mya was unsure about telling everyone what had happened. She felt like she was finally being seen as herself and not some higher being that would solve everyone’s problems.” 

“That’s what the alcohol is for, to make it better. Plus, It’ll be good for you to let it out.” 

“I suppose…” She said, still unsure if this was going to be a good idea. 

“Great! I’ll gather the troops and we’ll meet you at the tavern” She gave Dorian a half-smile. 

Mya walked past Dorian and barely made it to the door that would lead to Madame De Fer, when the Grand Enchanter waved for Mya’s attention 

“May we speak, Inquisitor?” Fiona asked, her tone implying she was not going to take no for an answer.

“I have time…” Mya said cautiously. When the opportunity to choose whether the mages of Redcliff were to be conscripts or allies, Mya chose to ally with them. However, this didn’t mean that she trusted Fiona. In her opinion, Mya could not understand why an elf, city-raised or otherwise, would allow a Tevinter magister to “protect” their people. Tevinter was the very reason the People were forced into slavery (or so the stories say). It was one thing to put old prejudices aside to help the many, another thing completely to ignore the history between the two races out of fear of something worse. 

Dorian was different from the Tevinter mages she was taught to fear. He wanted to change the way Tevinter treated its people. Mya learned from their not so quiet “debates” about slavery that Dorien, though accustomed to the practice, shared her opinion on elvhen slavery. He was one of, if not the main reason, her opinions of humans grew into something a little more positive. However, this did not mean that her opinion of Grand Enchanter Fiona changed. 

“Yes?” Mya asked politely.

“It has come to my attention that you’ve been spending quite a lot of time with the First Enchanter, Lady Vivienne. I would like to inquire as to the reason.” Mya raised an eyebrow.

“Really now? You want to know why I’ve been spending time with someone whose experience with Orelisian politics greatly overshadows my own, during a time when such knowledge is needed?” Mya asked. Fiona scowled. 

“I too, have plenty of experience navigating the intricacies of Orlesian politics. I feel that you, as Inquisitor, would gain a better understanding of Empress Celene and how her Game is played if we discussed the matter.” She stated curtly. 

“I don’t see why I can’t talk to both of you about politics, seeing as you both have clashing opinions, I feel like I’m getting a better education of mage politics.” 

“You can’t trust her, Inqusitor. Madame De Fer is only interested in the betterment of her and her sycophants’ station.” 

“See, I think that’s where we differ in opinion. But you’re not really any better, are you? You sold the mages of Redcliff into something worse than slavery without their consent. 

Fiona's jaw tightened at the reprimand. “I had no choice! The Templars would have destroyed us. They would have killed all the innocent mages that deserve freedom from a system that has not worked since its inception.” 

“If anything I learned about you is true, that’s rather hypocritical of you to say. You didn’t ask any of the other mages what they thought before you rebelled. You just did what you thought was best. You didn’t even consider the feelings of the others that were involved. There are countless other mages that can’t get the proper education they need now because of a war you started!” Mya was getting angry. Fiona looked flabbergasted. Her surprise quickly shifted to anger.

“How could you understand? You weren’t raised in a Circle! You don’t know the horrible things they did to innocent mages who were just trying to get a grasp on their power!” Fiona retorted. 

“You think I don’t know what it’s like to have no control?!” She shoved the sleeves of her blue brocade shirt. “You look at the scars on my body and then tell me again that I don’t know how it feels.” Across her arms were thick, jagged lines that had healed poorly. 

“I had no one to tell me how to control my powers when I was young. I didn’t learn anything until I was almost eighteen. By then, it was too late to warn me of the dangers of playing with fire. Not to mention that my teacher taught by example. Most of the time, I was the practice dummy! After all, ‘our’ people have this habit of being extremely superstitious, and I was the ‘Wolf-Girl’ and you know how the Dalish feel about wolves.” Mya remarked.

“Inquisitor… I…” 

“No, I didn’t show this to you so you could pity me. I need you to understand why we still need the Circles. Some were cruel, evil even. I’ll give you that. But I would rather die than to have another young mage, human or not, go through what I did.” Mya interjected.

She gave herself a moment to calm down before giving Fiona a forced smile. It would be a complete and utter disaster if the mages left now. She had to mend fences, so to speak, and after all, she was the first to raise her voice. “I apologize for getting so heated. I was actually on my way to the tavern for some drinks. Would you like to join me?”

Fiona gave a polite shake of her head and returned Mya’s shaky smile. “I… also apologize. I did not realize your past with magic. I was out of line. I appreciate everything you’ve done for our people.” Fiona admitted.

“I try,” Mya nodded. She waved to the enchanter before pushing open the door. She walked up the steps to where Vivienne was working. 

“Hey, Viv. How is…being in charge going?” Mya asked. The enchantress narrowed her eyes. 

“If you ever call me ‘Viv’ again, I’ll have you executed.” She threatened. There was a momentary pause between them before they both laughed. 

“This is why everyone is so scared of you, Viv.” Mya pointed out affectionately. “They know not to mess with someone whose power is almost equal to mine.” 

“Almost?” Vivienne pouted. “Darling, I’ve been involved in Orelsian politics since before you had your first bleed.” 

“I know, that’s why I’m absolutely terrified of you.” Mya teased.

“Rightfully so, my dear. Rightfully so.” Vivienne agreed. “Can I just say, I am delighted you share in my ambition to have the Circles restored. I would like to express my condolences on your dreadful past.” 

“You were quite…passionate.” Vivienne informed. “But something needed to be done about Fiona. I only regret I was not the one to put her in her place.” 

“She brought up some good points. Mages need to know how to control their powers, but how some Circles treated their mages is unacceptable and will no longer be tolerated.” Mya pointed out. Vivienne nodded. 

“Kirkwall was an absolute disaster. One I would not want to repeat.” Vivienne solemnly declared. Mya bowed her head. “Also, I…would not have what happened to you, happen to others. Never again.” Vivienne quietly promised. Tears stung Mya's eyes as she smiled at the First Enchanter. “Come now, darling, tears are not necess…” Vivienne gave a small grunt as the Herald of Andraste quickly embraced her. Vivienne patted Mya’s blonde head awkwardly. “If you tell anyone this happened, I will deny it.” She warned. Mya laughed quietly. 

“It would be out of character of you if you didn’t. By the way, the others are gathering at the Herald’s Rest. Would you like to join us?” Vivienne snorted. 

“I appreciate the invitation, darling, but Sera and I have a truce about entering territories.” Vivienne informed. Mya raised an eyebrow. 

“You’ll have to tell me how this little ‘agreement’ came to be. I thought the pranks would never stop.” Mya snickered. Vivienne rolled her eyes. Mya walked back down the stairs with a wave to Commander Helaine, who stood reading a scroll on what Mya would assume to be Knight-Enchanting.

“See you later, Viv.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I've been MIA. It's been kind of hectic, and I wanted to be sure I gave you guys some decent stuff. It has come to my attention that Mya comes off as a bit too Mary-sueish. I agreed. Which is why I've decided to, for lack of a better word, edit some stuff. If you see something that maybe doesn't fit the story, please don't hesitate to comment. I want to do right by my audience. Anyway, a giant thanks goes to Withinmelove for just being an amazing best friend and (sort of) beta. More thanks goes to everyone who decided my story was good enough to leave kudos on! You guys are the best!


	7. Emotional Drinking is Never a Good Idea

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ALL the credit for ANY Elvish goes to FenxShiral and their oh so very helpful dictionary of words. If you're interested in that stuff, I HIGHLY recommend it! I can't even imagine how much time that must have taken to put together. 
> 
> As always, if you have any suggestions for me, I would be ETERNALLY grateful. 
> 
> Hope you enjoy the chapter :) 
> 
> telom manise: Bad liqueur.

Boss! There you are!” Iron Bull shouted with glee. He raised the mug in his hand a little too quickly, some of the liquid spilled onto the Tevinter mage sitting next to him. 

“Vishante kaffas, Bull! Watch where your swinging that thing!” Dorian chastised, annoyed. 

“That’s not what you said last night, Dorian.” Bull sing-songed. Dorian glared at his lover. His eyes shifter over to the doorway, where the Inquisitor still stood.

“Don’t just stand there, Inquisitor. Come in and join us!” Dorian demanded. 

“There she is!” 

“Come on in!” 

“Inquisitor, join us!” 

“Quizzie! There ya are!”

The sights of Cassandra, Varric, Iron Bull, Dorian, Josie, Cullen, Sera, and even Cole made her incredibly happy. These people who actually wanted her company, who appreciated her hard work, and the left over emotions from the conversation with Vivienne, brought more unexpected tears to her eyes. 

“Hey now, Quizzie, who made you cry?! I swear they’re gonna get arrows in the dangle-bag!” Sera threatened from the top level of the tavern.

“No, Sera. It’s nothing like that. I just… never thought I would be able to have a family again.” Mya admitted. 

“Why’s that then? What happened to your first one?” Sera questioned. Mya took a deep breath. Then another. 

“When I was small, a group of human rogues attacked my clan. We camped in this… beautiful grove full of crystal grace and elfroot.” Mya began, nostalgia for the better times coating her voice. “We had been there before, during a time of peace and traded some of our supplies with the humans who lived in the nearby town.” 

“Hang on a second.” Varric interrupted. “I have a friend who told me that her clan rarely interacted with humans.” 

“Most clans are highly apprehensive about discussing even the possibility of trade with humans.” Mya agreed. “My clan was not like the others. I call myself Lavellan out of respect for the clan that raised me, but my true clan name would be Fenora. Loosely translated into common tongue it is…” 

“Nation of the Wolf.” A lilting voice translated. Solas looked uncomfortable in the hustle and bustle of the tavern. His shoulders were stiff, and the way he walked with preparation to sprint out the door gave the impression he would rather be elsewhere. 

“Chuckles! Nice of you to join us.” Varric grinned. Solas nodded.

“I felt I could use some time away from my research.” What he didn’t add was that the First Enchanter let slip that there would be the sharing of secretes and secretly he wanted to know more about the Inquisitor 

“As I was saying.” Mya interjected. “My clan wasn’t as… traditional… as most others are.” 

“Ha! It’s all just fancy dress! I knew it!” Sera giggled madly. Mya cast a glare in her direction. 

“Even my birth name would be what most Dalish consider… freakishly unusual.” May admitted. 

“I find it interesting that there would be a Dalish clan who would go against tradition like that.” Solas commented. 

“Yeah well, you would! Wouldn’t cha? This one fancies our Inquisitor!” Sera declared. Solas’ face flushed with embarrassment, as did Mya’s. Sera’s keen eyes caught sight of both of them sputtering their denials and she grinned. 

“You’re in it!” Sera guffawed. The others rolled their eyes at her antics. 

“Anyway…” Mya coughed. “Back to my horrible life story that you’re only going to hear once.” Mya cleared her throat. “My clan was by no means ‘a normal Dalish clan’. I didn’t learn until much later why we were hunted.” Mya paused and looked to see she had their attention. “The humans came, they wiped out my clan, killed my parents, then left. They just left. Like slaughtering an entire clan of innocent people didn’t mean shit. I ended up burying them myself.” Mya took a deep breath to calm herself. 

“Fuck, Boss.” Bull exclaimed. The Iron Bull had buried enough of his own friends in Seheron to know what that was like. 

“When you told me you understood vengeance and anger I had no idea…” Cassandra said softly. Mya shifted on her feet, still uncomfortable with the kind of amazement her friends were throwing her way. 

“I recently had a conversation with a friend who told me I didn’t have to share my past if I didn’t want to.” At this she glanced at Solas, who gave her an encouraging nod. “I felt like I needed to share it with you guys. You are the closest thing that I’ve had to a real family in a long time, and I want you to know this about me.” Mya could no longer hold back the tears. She wiped her face and continued. “My clan had an innate ability to shift into animals. Wolves were the preferred form because of their significance to our religion, and because they are excellent hunters. The human town we traded with had been overrun with fanatical Templars looking to eradicate anything magical.” Cullen’s eyes widened. He had heard of a faction of Templars going rogue, but he thought it had something to do with lyrium. 

“They thought you were werewolves.” He surmised. She shrugged.

“That’s what I would assume.” Solas snorted.

“Typical. People killing what they don’t understand for the wrong reasons. It’s tragic how often it happens.” Mya glanced at the apostate.

“Agreed. That’s why we need to be better than the humans who killed my clan. No race can afford to be ignorant. Not in a time where there’s a hole in the sky and a madman seeking godhood.” Mya reminded.

“I don’t understand.” Cassandra interjected. “How can you even tolerate to be around us?” She gestured to the humans in the room. 

“It took me years to let go of my hatred.” Mya admitted. “That kind of hatred just ate and ate at me until I was nothing but pride, rage and vengeance. I realized one day that the path I was on wouldn’t make my family proud. I knew I needed some change.” 

“Were you on your own?” Cassandra asked, changing the subject. Mya shook her head, grateful for the kindness. 

“No. I had Revas, Hanin, Enalsalin, and Atisha. They were my pack.” She answered nostalgically. 

“These were other elves?” Cassandra asked, confused. 

“No, they were wolves.” She said casually. The group gaped at her. 

“So… you were literally raised by wolves. Has anyone ever told you that the shit you go through is weird?” Varric asked dryly. 

“Once or twice.” She said wryly.

“Where are they now?” Dorian asked. Mya’s face darkened. 

“Dead. Killed by people I thought were my friends.” She whispered. “The Dalish can’t tolerate breeches in tradition. Wolves are always to be feared, for they are the harbingers of Fen’Harel the traitor. So when Keeper Lavellan discovered how I’d survived for so long, she killed my wolves to make sure Fen’Harel couldn't catch the clan’s scent. She had two of her strongest warriors ‘leash’ me to a tree while I watched. If I moved, they were to restrain me.” She unrolled her sleeves and flipped her wrists to expose five thick scars. “They broke my wrists each time I tried to gather my mana to shift.” Solas’ jaw visibly tightened. She pushed her sleeves back down. Mya unzipped her boots and rolled up the edges of her trousers. “When they got tired of that, they smashed my calves with their spears.” Mya gestured to the large bumps on her legs. “The Keeper wanted my face left alone though. She didn't want any scars to obstruct the vallaslin that would mark me as one of them.” Mya scoffed. “At least they let me choose what would cover my face. I thought the branches of Mythal would remind me of the forest and the time I spent with my family.”

“Lethalin, the Dalish have done you great harm. How can you still think yourself one of them?” Solas inquired. 

“They are not Dalish.” Mya snapped. “Those…animals cannot understand what the point of being Dalish is. We are supposed to be keeping our people’s traditions alive, not clinging to them. Nor are we supposed to be so superstitious, that harm befalls anyone not conforming to Dalish standards.” She sighed and put the palm of her hand to her forehead. 

“I think I need to change your nickname from Diamond to just Badass.” Varric quipped. Mya shook her head. 

“Nah, I like it. Besides, you change one nickname and then you’ll have to change them all.” She teased.

“When do I get one?” Sera complained. 

“You get one when I think of one.” He retorted. 

“If I might ask, why is the Inquisitor’s nickname ‘Diamond’? Is it because of her hair?” Cullen inquired. 

“Well, Curly, if you must know, it’s because she’s valuable to everyone, but only a few people know how fucking tough she is.” Varric answered. Mya covered her face in embarrassment. She really was no good with praise.

“Okay. I was promised alcohol, and alcohol I have not had. Bull, do we still have that stuff that kills the nerves in your throat?” Dorian demanded.

“That we do.” Bull grinned. “Bartender! Give us the stuff that makes you feel like you swallowed dragon piss!” 

“Maker help me, if you break anymore cups, Bull. I’m warning you.” The bartender shook his fist at the Qunari mercenary. Bull only laughed. 

“I make no promises.” 

Hours later, after many drinking games and another attempt at Wicked Grace (which ended in Cullen once again losing his clothes and dignity), Mya stumbled out of the The Herald’s Rest, a drunken smile upon her face. She swayed and giggled. 

“Diamond? Do you need some help?” Varric asked, amused. 

“Nooooope. I’m sooo good. So good.” She slurred. “Why is Solas so grumpy?” She asked suddenly. “He helped me with the thingy in my hand, but he can’t be rooomantic with me?” She muttered. 

“I think he has his issues, the same with the rest of us.” Varric mused. “Sometimes it seems like he carries himself like… a warrior who has seen too much.”

“Soooooo… He’s like Blackwall then.” Mya surmised, then frowned. “But Blackwall doesn’t seem to have any problems being mushy-gushy around Josie.” Varric laughed. 

“Trust me kid, it took quite a bit of courage for our Grey Warden to confess his feelings to Ruffles. And a large amount of booze.” Varric added the last part under his breath. Mya brightened. 

“I’m kind of brave! And I’ve had a lot of booze! Varric, let’s go see Solas!” She exclaimed excitedly. She wobbled a bit, but righted herself. 

“As funny as it would be to see the look on Chuckle’s face, I don’t think now is the right time…” 

“C’mon! I’ll let you put this into your book.” Mya sing-songed. Varric shook his head.

“I don’t this is a good idea, Diamond. I think someone is gonna end up getting hurt.” He said cautiously. Mya scoweled. 

“Fine, I’ll go talk to him myself.” She muttered, as she stomped up the stairs to the rotunda, to where Solas had fled after things were getting flung across the tavern. She was unaware that she was being followed, as she sang elvish lullabies very loudly and very off-key. 

“Inquisitor!”

“Lethallan!”

“Mya’fen!”

Hearing her own name startled her. She paused as she reached the door to the rotunda. As it turned out, Solas was also looking for her. She attempted to hug him, but the dizziness from the alcohol overwhelmed her and she collapsed in a heap of giggles on the floor. Solas sighed in exasperation. 

“Inquisitor, what kind of telom manise has The Iron Bull been making you drink?” He wrinkled his nose at the stench of alcohol coming from her. 

“S’nothin I didn’t want to drink. Is not that telom Soooooolas. You gotta try it.” She drawled then giggled.

“You need rest.” Solas said firmly. Mya shook her head. 

“I don’t wanna.” She grumbled. 

“You need to sleep. I’ll have the cooks be ready in the morning.” He gathered the very drunk elf into his arms. Surprisingly, she was pretty heavy. 

“Your love of sweets is going to be the death of me.” Solas groaned. 

“Tis not very smart to call the most powerful woman in Thedas fat.” She mumbled. 

“Then maybe the most powerful woman in Thedas should cut back on the cinnamon rolls.” He teased.

“But they're soooo yummy-looking. Like your rear.” She said sleepily. Solas groaned and gave a small, affectionate smile. 

“I am taking you to your quarters, Inquisitor.” 

"Mmmkay. I'm sleepy.” She closed her eyes, but before she passed out, she thought she heard him reply in an uncharacteristically soft voice. 

“Go to sleep. I’m here.”


	8. Of Nightmares and Hangovers

The smell of burning flesh wafted into her nose. She ran around the battlefield, furiously searching for her comrades. 

“Oh gods, no.” She whispered. The bodies of all the fallen Inquisition soldiers surrounded her. Their pale faces twisted in rage. 

“We died for nothing” 

“We sacrificed our lives for a leader who doesn't give a damn.” 

“Cassandra would've been a better leader.” 

“All your friends, your family, they're dead for nothing.” 

“Stop it!” Mya screamed. She grabbed her sword hilt, pulsed her magic through it as she was taught, and cut her way through the soldiers, frantically looking for her friends.

“It's because of you, I can't go home again, Boss.” Bull’s mangled corpse growled. Swords pierced his whole body, protruding grotesquely from his chest and arms. “I betrayed my own people for you and you don’t even have the decency to reward me with something? I see the way you look at Solas. I could give you way more satisfaction than the bald hobo.”

“You? Hero of Thedas? Ha! What a laugh! You're as bad as those noble pricks. You don’t care who gets hurt along your path to power. You’re worse even. You give people the false hope that things are gonna get better, then snatch everything they have when things don’t.” Sera’s face twisted into a cruel sneer, blood running out of the cut that marred her forehead. 

“I should have let you die.” Mya’s head whipped round to where Solas stood. His face set into the familiar cold, detached expression he often used when confronting the ignorant. His eyes glowed red from the ravages of the red lyrium he had been exposed to, and there were cracks in his skin showing the places he had been corrupted. “What use are you to the People? All you’ve ever done is bring death and despair to the innocent.” He smiled, his blue eyes filled with satisfaction at her pain. “Of course, there are limits to what people can expect from an animal. That’s all you are: a wild, savage beast.” He started laughing. “I can see the pathetic way you look at me. It’s sad really. You still haven’t learned that it’s your own fault all the people closest to you die…”

“No.”

“What? I wasn’t finished.”

“No, you’re done. I’m done listening to this.” She turned around. “I’m a mage. I have physically walked the fade twice. I know a despair demon when I hear it. You may have had me fooled at first, but this farce ends. Now.” She raised her marked hand and closed the rift the fade was emulating. 

She woke up gasping for breath and soaked with sweat. Her head was pounding in time with her heartbeat, and the light from the windows stung her eyes. The taste of vomit still in her mouth. 

“Ugh, never ever again.” She promised herself. She got up and dragged her tired body to the dresser. She put one arm through the silk brocade shirt, completely forgoing her breast band. Then the other. A wave of dizziness and nausea hit her quickly and hit her hard. She ran over to the nearest pot and retched. 

“I hope I’m not the only one suffering.” She muttered darkly. “If I am, I won’t be much longer.” She put on her trousers slowly, as to not get dizzy, fall down and vomit all over herself. She slowly made her way down the stairs of her quarters. She opened the door that would lead into the main room and was greeted enthusiastically and loudly.

“Hey, Boss!” 

“Diamond, hey!” 

“Quizzy, you don’t look so hot.” Sera whispered in her ear. Mya jumped. She hadn’t seen the rogue elf in the shadows.

“Dread Wolf’s balls! Don’t do that!” May yelped. Sera giggled loudly. Mya held a hand to her head and moaned pitifully. Sera looked at her, almost sympathetic. 

“You look like you could use a hangover cure.” Sera said slyly. Mya nodded. Sera blew a raspberry. “You should go see Elfy. He can be boring as hell, but he has one fantastic cure for overdrinking if you bug him enough.” 

“Thanks, Sera. I’ll go do that.” Mya said gratefully. A walked slowly past the gathering nobles, a polite but shaky smile on her lips. She knocked on the door. 

“Give me a moment.” His smooth voice flited through the door. 

“Um… It’s me.” She called awkwardly. She heard his footsteps on the stone floor. 

“I thought you’d need to come by.” He said, a hint of smugness in his voice. She rolled her eyes. He observed her. She was paler than she usual and dark bags stood under her eyes, as if she hadn't slept in weeks. Everything in her hunched over posture, her hands hugging her elbows for support, told him she’d been having trouble getting the proper rest and not just the previous night, but for a few weeks. “Is everything ok, Inquisitor? You don’t look well.”

“Don’t’ be obtuse!” She snapped. He raised an eyebrow as if to say, ‘I can refuse to help you’ so she sighed. 

“Sorry. Honestly, everything is killing me. One minute I'm so nauseous I feel like I will never eat again, the next I'm so dizzy it feels like Skyhold is spinning.” She admitted. 

“Did you drink that much?” Solas inquired. Mya shook her head. 

“No, not really. It was the stupid demons who wouldn't leave me alone last night.” She grumbled. Solas raised an eyebrow. 

“Care to elaborate?” He prompted.

“They targeted my weaknesses, y’know, self-confidence, the fact that all my blood family is dead, the fate of the world is literally in the palm of my hand and I feel like I’m messing everything up, shit like that.” She explained. Solas frowned at her nonchalance. 

“I do not understand why you refuse to be serious about potential events that could harm you.” Mya snorted and chuckled. 

“I learned a long time ago that life isn’t worth much if you dwell on the shit that happens. You get moody, depressed, and life is just too damn short to go through it like that. Don’t get me wrong, there is a time and place for seriousness, but you learn to pick those moments very quickly.” Solas bowed his head in acknowledgement. 

"Fair enough. Sometimes, to heal the worst wounds, it's required for the patient to share what hurts the most. I can tell, after yesterday, your two clans are… What Varric would call sore subjects.” He advised. Mya’s violet-blue eyes softened. 

“Tell me. Does my tragic past reaffirm your opinion of the Dalish?”

“If I feel anything at all, it is sorrow for how you grew up. No one should grow up without a family. But our tragedies do not define us, nor do the actions others take against us.” Mya smiled in relief. She feared he and the others might pity her because of her origins, that Solas might think less of her. It was a stupid fear, but a fear nonetheless. But one thing occurred to her: She didn’t know very much about her elfy elf friend besides his interest in the Fade and his intolerance of ignorance. 

“I’m curious to know more about you, Solas. I’m interested in what you’ve told me of yourself and your studies, if you have time, I’d like to hear more.” She said, in a voice that left no room for argument. 

Solas smirked. He knew the Inquisitor needed some demon-free sleep, and came up with the perfect idea to make that happen. 

“You continue to surprise me. All right, let us talk. Preferably somewhere more interesting than this.” He waved a hand of concentrated healing mana, meant to be an effective anesthetic to a patient in agony, over her face. He watched as her eyes fluttered shut and she slumped forward, onto his chest. He caught her in his arms and studied her. How likely was it that someone like him would meet someone like her? She was as kind and funny as she was strong and intelligent. Despite the cruelty, the Lavellan clan and the humans had exposed her to, she held no grudges, no prejudices. She was here, risking her life for a world that has only been harsh to her. He smiled ironically. She was everything he had ever desperately tried to be. She was the one wide awake, in a world full of sleepwalkers. 

He carried her past the nosy nobles (who made no effort to hide their gasps of surprise and scandalous delight) up the stairs to her chamber, and laid her gently on her oversized bed. 

“Sleep well. I will join you shortly.” He whispered. He settled himself onto her couch, closed his eyes, and effortlessly slipped into the Fade.


	9. Of Kisses and Somberness

They walked through Haven. They made their way through Haven, past the trading stand, through the quaint little houses, and to the chantry. 

“Why Haven?” She asked. 

“Haven was your home. It will always be important to you.” She frowned. 

“We already talked about that?” She hesitantly said, her voice rising in pitch towards the end, as though she wasn’t completely sure that they had. They walked into the chantry, and into the prison were Mya came to. 

“I sat beside you while you slept.” He admitted. “Studying the anchor of course.” She raised an eyebrow, but was grateful nonetheless. 

“I’m glad you were watching over me.” It was her turn to admit something. “I don’t like thinking about what some fool human could’ve done while I was unconscious.” She knew Cassandra and Leliana were beyond racist propaganda, but she had more than enough experience to know that not everyone was so open-minded. 

“They would not have touched you. I would not allow such a thing to happen to someone under my care.” He promised, and the firmness of his tone caused her to shiver. “You were a mystery. You still are.” He continued. 

“The best kind of mystery?” She inquired teasingly and he nodded with a chuckle and a smile. 

“The best kind.” He confirmed. “Because I ran every test I could think of, searched the fade for days and still found nothing. That does not happen to me very often.” She smirked. 

“Even unconscious, I was still frustrating you. How appropriate.” 

“I wouldn’t say you’re a frustrating person. I would just call you stubborn.” He teased. “Your stubbornness to reveal your secrets almost cost me my life. Cassandra suspected duplicity on my part simply because we’re both elves. She threatened to have me executed as an apostate if I didn’t produce results.” Mya wasn’t surprised. Cassandra and her shared a quick temper and that was exactly what she would do if the situations were reversed. 

“I’m sorry I almost inadvertently killed you.” She apologized. “But Cassandra is like that with everyone.” He laughed at that, and the pleasure she received from making the stoney-faced elf laugh filled her up. They exited the prison a few moments after and elected to go outside the chantry.

“You were never going to wake up. How could you, a mortal, sent through the fade?” She raised an eyebrow. Then paused to look around. She felt displaced. 

“I was going to leave, study the breach on my own…” He trailed off. She snorted. 

“What kind of plan is that? The breach would consume us all.” He smirked and shrugged. 

“I never said it was a good plan.” He took her hand and they walked through to the end of the chantry front part thing. 

“I never expected to meet someone like you.” He said softly. “I grabbed your hand,” he threaded their fingers together, “and felt the whole world change.” She swallowed nervously. 

“Felt the whole world change?” She asked softly. Bright blue met the softest violet-blue. He felt like he could stare into her eyes for the rest of his immortal life and he knew it wouldn't be enough. A thought occurred to him. What would happen when the end of the journey came? He knew his leaving was inevitable, so what was he doing? This was wrong of him. It would be easier for both of them if they ended… Whatever this was, quickly. 

“A figure of speech.” He amended softly. He gently took his hand from her and walked a few feet. She smirked. He seemed as if he thought he needed the distance. But she was as the wolf, hunting her prey and approaching the catch. She saw the look in his eyes when they held hands. His eyes glimmered with what seemed like affection and she was not about to let him deny the spark between them for whatever stupid reasons he had. She strolled up to where he stood. 

“Sweet talker.” She teased. He smiled and looked away, her hand brought his face back to hers and their lips met. His plump lips were surprisingly soft, yet right away, she felt the connection of her soul to his, as if they were puzzle pieces meshed perfectly together. She felt as if all the hardships she had been through, the marking of her hand, her battle with Corephyeus, had been worth it just so she could meet Solas. Even if fleeting, this happiness was something she could hold onto when times became more difficult. 

However, she quickly realized she didn’t feel any returning pressure. She did not wish to be too forward and pulled back. Mya started stammering apologies, then turned to flee. Solas’ hand caught her wrist, and pulled her back to his chest. His mouth met hers, passionately, furiously, as if this would be the one and only time he could allow himself to lose control. He bent her over, growling into her mouth. His hand gripped her behind, drawing a moan from her mouth. Realizing what he was doing, he tore his mouth from hers reluctantly. His eyes were clouded with indecision, until he went back shaking his head as if disappointed with himself, for one more quick kiss. 

“We shouldn’t. It’s not right. Not even here.” He said, regret clouding his eyes. Mya frowned. Then really looked at the objects around her. Haven was gone. Destroyed in the battle with Coryphyus. She then realized the truth of where they were.

“We’re in the fade. Some part of me knew that… but how? We were just talking at Skyhold” She asked. Solas gave a small smile. 

“A spell to help you sleep.” He explained fondly. She rolled her eyes.

“Should I be worried this spell will be abused?” She teased. Solas smirked.

“Only if you pull one too many all-nighters.” He quipped. “But that’s a matter for later. Best discussed when you… Wake up.” 

Mya snapped awake, coming to in her bed. She smiled and put a hand to her lips. Solas must have cast his spell and brought her up to her quarters. She really owed him for making her rest. The previous night had left her feeling exhausted. Never again was she going to drink with Bull. 

“Did you sleep well?” She jumped and swore loudly. 

“Andraste’s tits, Solas! You fucking scared me.” 

“I apologize. I did not mean to frighten you.” He murmered. 

“I’ve never done that before, the fade thing.” She admitted. He raised his eyebrow. “and the whole…y’know. Kissing…thing.” She blushed, embarrassed. 

“I apologize. The kiss was impulsive and ill-considered. I should not have encouraged it.” He said. Mya groaned. 

“Stop apologizing. You say that, but you’re the one who started with tongue.” Solas sputtered defensively. 

“I did no such thing!” The tips of his ears turning an adorable shade of red. 

“Oh? Does it not count if it’s only fade-tongue?” She slyly replied. He shook his head. 

“It has been a long time,” he ignored her redundant question, “and things have always been easier for me in the fade.” He admitted reluctantly. “I’m not certain this is the best idea… It could lead to trouble.”   
Mya scoffed. 

“I literally laugh in the face of danger every day. But…I’m willing to take that chance… If you are.” She said, ending her sentence shyly. He smiled, causing a smile to spread on Mya’s face as well.

“I… may be, yes. There are… considerations. If I could have some time to think?” Mya’s smile faltered. “I promise you, the issue is mine, not yours.” He assured her. 

“I suppose… I’ve got some patience. I can wait.” He sighed in relief. 

“Ma serannas, Mya’Fen.” His voice trailed off as is he wanted to continue speaking, but couldn’t decide whether or not to say something. 

“May I ask you something?” He inquired. She nodded. “You told me that your birth clan, Fenora, correct?” She nodded an affirmative. “You said that your birth clan revered the Dread Wolf. Why is it that your face bares the vallaslin of Mythal instead of Fen’Harel?” He asked, his voice strangely stoic. She took a deep breath in.

“Ah, but you see, there is no vallaslin for Fen’Harel.” She winked and continued. “When I was found by Deshanna, she knew which clan I was from.” Mya gestured to her silver-violet eyes. “Clan Fenora had very specific traits, I suppose due to our shifting ability. She deemed me her ‘pet project’ to try and convince me that the stories of clan Lavellan were the only ones that were true.” She clenched her hands into fists. “I didn’t want to receive any vallaslin at all, to honor my family whose faces were bare and my own beliefs that Fen’Harel was not a monster.” Solas struggled to keep his composure. He had never expected any of his past followers to survive and remember his teachings. Thinking back, he realized he should have noticed her resemblance to the first family he freed from slavery who decided to stay with him. They too bared the strange silver-violet color of eyes. So many emotions passed through him: happiness that he managed to accomplish something, grief that his friends had been consumed by the quickening, but joy that they had passed what he taught them onto their children. He only wanted what was best for the People, which was their freedom. He never expected the consequences of his actions to be… this. Being sundered from the Fade was worse than death. Worse than tranquility, even. But somehow, she made it bearable. Her unique spirit, her kindness, and her intelligence gave him hope for the future of their people. 

“Oh? What makes you say that? There are plenty of Dalish tales that tell of his wicked nature.” He said, maintaining his mask of calm intelligence. She shook her head enthusiastically. 

“But that's the thing, isn't it? They're tales. No one has any hard evidence that the Dalish tales are true. The only thing we do know is that the elvhen lost their immortality, lost Arlathan and Halam’shiral, but we don't have any written reason how. Tevinter is blamed for the downfall of the empire, and some parts of those tales are true, but what if the real downfall was through in-fighting? You, yourself admitted that what you saw in the Fade about Arlathan wasn't perfect. If it was anything like Orlais seems to be, I could see the ancient Elvhen fighting amongst themselves for power.” She rambled enthusiastically. Solas stared at her, amazed at how accurately she was hypothesizing. No one alive today had truly seen what had happened, so how could she know? 

“I thought that if I had to mar my face forever, Mythal’s vallaslin would remind me of my own mother and how to protect those that need it. I realize now, I was trying to make a point. If someone as sinful as I could bare the markings that honor these so-called gods, what would that say about their stories?” 

“There is the high probability that neither of them exist.” Solas pointed out. Mya shook her head. 

“After all that I’ve seen, I cannot believe that the Creators themselves are lies. I just…” She deflated. “I need to believe there’s something or someone out there so that all this suffering, all this pain, can have a purpose.” 

“For someone who is not often serious, you’re very good at it.” He teased. The corners of her mouth lifted into the tiniest fraction of a smile.

“Do you remember when you said that the idea of having a god that need not prove himself to be one was appealing? I keep thinking about Fen’Harel. He may have done some monstrous deeds, but we don’t know why. I don’t know what it is, but I just know he was doing the horrible things for the right reasons. To me, that justifies him as a person.” She explained. 

“Sometimes, people and even gods are past the point of redemption, Da’len.” He said gently. But inside, he was trembling. How could this quickling child have so thorough an understanding of him? She had no idea of the horrific atrocities he committed. The very reason their people were in such a state was because of him and his lack of foresight. She looked at him, violet-silver eyes glistening with the beginning of tears. 

“I… I don’t know how I feel about that.” She chuckled, the sound hollow. “If I told you that I couldn’t believe in redemption, it would make me such a hypocrite. But somehow, I actually do believe in second-chances.” 

“And that,” Solas said pointedly, “is what makes you an admirable leader.” She smiled, a real smile at last. 

“Thank you… this was a nice change of pace. We need to have serious conversations more often.” She said. 

“I’m always here.” He nodded his head. She looked away, face burning at the implications. 

“I should… let you go about your day.” Solas said softly. He turned and was about to exit her room, when he felt her hand clasping his wrist. 

“I want you to know, this isn’t just a fling for me. I’ll give you time, but don’t take too long.” She whispered. Solas nodded his head and gave her a small smile before gently reclaiming his hand, and leaving her quarters.


	10. Lullabies and Old Hurts

Mya whistled as she walked past the nobles, occasionally bowing her head in respect, to the war room. She had duties to attend to, after all.

“Inquisitor, I have some news.” Came the commander’s voice in front of her. He seemed… sad.

“You’ve told us of your former clan and your current one.” He stated, trying to be business-like. “May I inquire as to why you took their name and not kept your natural one?” He froze, realizing his forwardness. “I mean, you don’t have to answer my question of you don’t want to. I was a bit curious.” He stuttered and flushed.

“I suppose that’s a fair question to ask. Maybe someday, if you’re a good little commander, I’ll tell you.” She winked, he sputtered indignantly, Leliana laughed, and Josephine sighed.

“Anyway, what news did you have? I’m guessing it’s something about my clan.” He nodded, expression switching back to his usual grim frown.

“Your Keeper contacted us, wanting to know if you were safe…” Mya scoffed.

“’Safe’ my elfy ass. All she cares about is if I can still produce magic and children.” Mya scowled and started pacing. Josephine looked concerned, as did Leliana.

“She said they were having problems with bandits up in Wycome.” Cullen went on. Mya froze her movements.

“What the fuck are they doing there?” She whispered. “What is she doing?!” She hissed and swore in elvhen under her breath. Her eyes snapped to Leliana. “Can you send one of your people, I don’t give a fuck which one, to find out what the actual hell is going on?” While Leliana would normally scold the Inquisitor’s foul-mouth, she figured this was going to be an exception as the Inquisitor didn’t normally swear so much.

“I can have someone out within the hour.” Leliana replied smoothly.

“But… I didn’t think you were on good terms with your Keeper.” Josephine confusedly stated.

“Trust me, there is still a lot of rage inside of me when I think of her horrid face. But her decision to move closer to a town full of humans who feel nothing but resentment and hate for elves will only cause a bloodbath on both sides. No child should not have to bury their family, as I have.” Mya growled and stormed out of the war room.

“So much for getting things done today.” She grumbled to herself. After making her way back to her quarters, she flung herself on her large Orlesian bed. She thought of all those kids in her clan. Those kids that looked up to her with pride and awe, called her big sister, were the only good things in that clan. How could she call herself one of them if she couldn’t even protect them? She growled in frustration.

This was getting her nowhere. She hopped off her bed, and shot one single fireball from her fist off her balcony, hoping to release some frustration. Admittedly, the small act of violence did make her feel a little better, but she knew it would be more productive to kill some steam in a less…crowded place. She left her quarters, turned the corner to find Solas and Varric chatting animatedly. She nodded her head to them, secretly hoping that neither would say a word about her little… explosion… and made it just down the stairs of the hold, before she felt the firm grasp of Solas’s hand on hers.

“There’s something bothering you.” He noticed the fireball. Of course he did. It wasn’t a question, but a subtle insistence that she should tell him what was wrong.

“Yes.” she admitted. But was hesitant to tell him what it was. She had told him of Deshana and her cruelty to her, he wouldn’t understand why the state of a clan that wasn’t technically hers would bother her. But since that kiss in the Fade… maybe it would be okay.

“I received a letter… from Deshana…” She began. The dark look in his eyes both comforted her and made her slightly fearful. “She asked if I was safe, and said that the clan was having bandit troubles in Wycome.”

“I don’t see what is upsetting you.” He interrupted.

“They wouldn’t normally risk going that far north, let alone so close to a city full of bigoted, violent, humans.” She explained quickly. “I have Leliana and her people looking into it for me.” Solas nodded thoughtfully.

“That is probably the wisest course of action. Her people can find out what exactly is going on without alerting a soul.” He agreed.

“That was what I was thinking.” She mumbled. She gently tugged her hand from Solas. “I was actually hoping to go on a run, if you know what I mean, and blow off some steam.” He raised an eyebrow. “I was hoping to shift and get a good run in before I have to deal with the giant shit storm that is my life.” She elaborated. He reluctantly released her and moved aside.

“By all means.” He said polietly. She gave him a grateful look and jogged to the bridge.

“I should be back in a couple of hours. Don’t wait up!” she shouted to the guards. They turned to say their farewells, but with a flash of silver, she was gone. As she ran on through the snow, the joy of freedom singing in her blood, she couldn’t help but think about what has happened in the last two years: she was basically exiled from her clan, gained the power to close the rifts, freed the human mages from oppression, fought a would-be god, became the leader of the most powerful organization in Thedas, and even managed to find some friends along the way.

She sprinted along the mountain side, eager to burn through her frustration. When she made it to the ruins of Haven, she halted. Shifting back to her elven form, she shivered as the wind blew through her, under-dressed for this kind of weather.

“I should have Cullen or Leliana see what they can salvage.” She muttered to herself. She was glad that most of the buildings were not visible under the large amounts of snow they were buried under. She took a breath, and started singing. 

_"Elgara vallas, da'len_

_Melava somniar_

_Mala tara aravas_

_Ara ma'desen melar_

_Iras ma ghilas, da'len_

_Ara ma'nedan ashir_

_Dirthara lothlenan'as_

_Bal emma mala dir_

_Tel'enfenim, da'len_

_Irassal ma ghilas_

_Ma garas mir renan_

_Ara ma'athlan vhenas_

_Ara ma'athlan vhenas"_

Mya’s voice was hoarse and off-key as she tried to tell the lives she failed to save that she would never forget them. She sang for the people of Haven, for her birth clan, for her current one, and for the family she has found in the Inquisition. She sang the lullaby her mother often sang to her when she couldn’t sleep, though her mother was a much better singer.

She chuckled at herself, putting a hand to her forehead. Tears sprang to her eyes and the two years of pent up self-doubt exploded to the surface of her mind. How was one Dalish elf going to save Thedas? She couldn’t even save Haven, let alone her own family. Now Deshana was going to massacre the little family she had left, over what? Territory? Mya was just one person.

Her emotions shifted to anger, hatred, and fury. How dare Deshana expect Mya to fix the problems she created? How fucking dare she?! How dare she expect Mya to be her little sycophant and just submit to her will because she thinks Mya doesn’t know better? Mya knew better than anyone what kind of violence Deshana was capable of. She’d seen it first hand as a child. She’d endured it for years, both from her and the other adults who didn’t want to risk Deshana’s wrath. There was no way Mya was going to let another child suffer at the hands of that power-hungry witch. She shifted back into her wolf form and made her way back to Skyhold.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is a fucking gorgeous rendition of the lullaby. I highly suggest you check it out, it's amazing!  
> https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Zl3CmzQY1So


End file.
